


Clothes Make the Man

by Ki_Ken_Tai_Ichi



Series: Kylux Positivity Week (the 3rd) [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Badass!Armitage Hux, But its more like the sexy kind, But they are just kinda backround, Kylo Ren has daddy issues, Kylux Positivity Week (Star Wars), M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Put it on, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, and by slight I mean blatant, slight competency kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:14:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29889243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ki_Ken_Tai_Ichi/pseuds/Ki_Ken_Tai_Ichi
Summary: Right after a short -but devastating- battle, Kylo finds out that Hux looks good in more than just his First Order officer uniform.(Kylux Positivity Week, the 3rd, Day 2: Put It On Hux)
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren
Series: Kylux Positivity Week (the 3rd) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2197605
Comments: 4
Kudos: 61
Collections: Kylux Positivity Week the 3rd





	Clothes Make the Man

**Author's Note:**

> Unless I’m missing something, “put it on” doesn’t inherently specify what is being worn, right?

* * *

Kylo stormed the _Finalizer_ , the air around him thick and compressing as his irritation permeated through the Force. Of course. Of kriffing course that insufferable general who stuck his nose into whatever business wasn’t his own was _nowhere to be found_ the instant Kylo actually needed to speak with him.

The bridge was near empty, operating with half a skeleton crew as all able personnel had been directed to battle stations, either as their primary assignment or to replace one of the many who’d fallen in the sudden skirmish. The highest-ranking officer on the bridge, some lowly Lieutenant who was quaking in his shined boots before Kylo had even addressed him, stuttered out something about the general having left for the hanger.

Kylo left, his half-burnt cloak billowing as he stalked towards the main launch bay. Even though the battle was over, there was no respite to be had. Not when ships needed to be fixed and the wounded tended to and, in some cases, literal fires to be put out. Technicians and mechanics and refuelers and pilots still ran around the hanger, each person moving in seemingly chaotic path without interrupting each other like a swarm of ants.

Some lines did converge on one ship, however. A tie fighter near the bay exit that was smoking slightly from its right wing but otherwise unharmed. Its pilot stood underneath it, gesticulating to the personnel around them and, likely, delivering instructions over the radio in their helmet. Kylo watched the mute pantomiming before ducking away.

There were too many frantic minds for him to search for Hux with the Force, and the bustle of engines and chatter made it hard to listen for Hux’s voice. So he was resigned to search the hanger on foot, keeping an eye out for the distinctive bright red hair of the general. Ten minutes was too much time wasted though, and Kylo admitted defeat by grabbing for the first person to cross his path. The medic looked at the hand around her arm and followed the grip up to his face. To her credit, she barely flinched.

“Where’s General Hux?” He asked, his vocoder warping his simple question into something more akin to the threat.

The medic was made of sterner stuff than that officer on the bridge, likely a testament to the violence and gore she’d witnessed on the battlefield, and swiftly gestured over her shoulder to the mutely gesturing pilot from before.

Kylo released her and strode over, disregarding the natural eb and flow of workers to follow the most direct route.

“General Hux,” Kylo snapped once he’d reached the pilot.

The pilot didn’t turn around. They continued speaking with the technician in front of them. Kylo was about to fling the pilot aside, Hux or no Hux that damn soldier deserved it for ignoring him, when the technician left after a crisp salute that the pilot returned. Only then, was Kylo acknowledged.

“Ah, Ren, I take it the planet-side offensive was a success?” The pilot said, his voice warped into something tinny and broken from the speakers inside.

“Take that thing off,” Kylo snapped. He disliked seeing himself in the reflective surface of the helmet. Even if it was only his own mask that was looking back at him, something was just perverted by the reversal.

“You first,” he replied with a blithe wave before climbing into the tie-fighter beside him.

Kylo, not to be ignored so easily, climbed in after him. It wasn’t until Hux pressed a button and lowered the rear hatch, closing them in the fighter, that Kylo realized he’d done exactly as Hux had intended.

“I was serious, you know. You first.” Hux repeated.

There wasn’t much floorspace in a tie-fighter. As they stood now there wasn’t even a foot of space between them. The close quarters already leant itself a strange intimacy to the situation that Kylo didn’t want to add to by removing his mask.

However, not seeing Hux’s face brought a certain anger that Kylo hadn’t expected. He wasn’t sure what exactly the cause was, but he suspected that it had to do with the general’s personality, or rather lack thereof. At even the best of times, Hux had a penchant for acting like a soulless droid, and with this helmet on he seemed even less human than usual. And it made no sense to be angry with a droid. Which meant that Kylo couldn’t be angry at this blank, faceless Hux without feeling as stupid as if he were arguing with a toaster.

So Kylo brought his hands to his helmet and deactivated its locks. The quiet hiss of air pressure echoed throughout the silent cockpit and Kylo held the mask loosely in his hands, unsure exactly what to do with it.

Hux brought his hands up and Kylo prepared the first insult, crafted since that initial ambush down on that backwards swamp of a planet, only for it to die in his throat.

Kylo wasn’t sure what he’d expected. Some part of him still didn’t quite believe it was Hux he’d been speaking to. Or rather, he understood it was Hux underneath the helmet, but to actually _see_ it before his eyes.

His hair, as always, was the first thing he noticed. Gone was the sleek side part that adhered to the First Order’s strict Wear and Appearance Code whatever-the-hell-number regulation. His hair had broken free from its pomade, likely from sweat if the thin sheen of it across Hux’s brow were any indication, and strands fell in a dramatic arc over his forehead. Particularly long strands reached his eyes while the shortest strands stood aloft like an impertinent cowlick.

Following the hair down led to grey eyes that changed depending on the lighting. Under the warm lighting of the cockpit, they were a moss green that seemed far more organic than a person living in space had a right to possess. Those green eyes were alight with residual adrenaline, maybe from battle, and stared unflinching at Kylo. That part never changed. Helmet or no helmet. Battle rush or during a mundane shift. General Hux always met Kylo’s eyes.

And it certainly was General Hux who stood before him. Red hair, steady gaze, thin lips. His pale skin contrasted against the thick, black material of the flight suit. Hux always wore black, always wore a uniform. But this. This black uniform was somehow different.

Perhaps it was in the fit? It wasn’t tailored to a rigid framework like his uniform, the flight suit clung to and outlined Hux’s lean musculature, highlighting what was obviously a slim body, but a body of a soldier nonetheless.

Or maybe it was the novelty? The officer uniform was something Kylo saw every day, an article of clothing that become synonymous with stuffy meetings and endless lectures and boring regulations and insufferable nagging. But the flight suit was something new and unusual. Something that caught his attention and dragged his eyes back each time he tried to look away.

Unless it was, somehow, an implication behind the flight suit? An unspoken verification that General Hux not only could fight, but did fight. That he was trained to fly a ship and shoot a gun and kill a person as well as any other, maybe even better. He had been a soldier of the First Order for a long time, after all.

“Something you were going to say?” Hux asked as he tucked the pilot helmet in the crook of his left arm, like he’d done it a million times.

“I, uh, you need,” the once very detailed threat of what would happen if Hux didn’t get his head out of his ass and notice a resistance ambush before they swarmed his away team suddenly dissipated like a plume of smoke under a heavy gust. 

“I need to what, Ren?”

 _You need to look like that more often._ “You need to stay on the bridge. Isn’t it your job to strategize battle formations?”

“Is it? I could have sworn you told me last week that I could _blow my stratagems out my ass_ the last time I had tried to suggest formations to you and the troops you were leading. You then proceeded to say that I could _call the shots once I actually contributed for once_. And, well, unlike some people, **I** know how to take criticism.”

Kylo was trying very hard to focus on Hux’s cutting words and not the bead of sweat that trickled down his jaw to disappear in the collar of his flight suit.

“Did you even manage to land a hit?” Kylo asked, falling back into the familiar comfort of insults.

“Well, I wasn’t in flight for very long.” Hux’s lips curled into something closely resembling a smirk and had the audacity to pair such an expression with a coquettish drawl. “I only managed to take out seventeen.”

Shit.

“Ah, only seventeen.”

Hux cocked an eyebrow. Normally it seemed aristocratic and pompous, like those obnoxious Senators his mother, and by extension him, had to play nice with. But now, in a pilot uniform with sweat across his brow and the excitement of battle in his eyes, Hux looked the part of a dashing rogue. He could even come close to charming.

Dear gods he really was his mother’s son. At least he could take comfort in the fact that Hux would never request not to be told the odds. If anything, it’d be the exact opposite.

“If that’s all you have to say, I really need to get back to work.” Hux turned to press the button to open the door, but Kylo grabbed his wrist before he could reach it.

“Uh, status report.”

“Excuse me?” Hux asked, now inflection clear amusement into his voice. This really wasn’t fair. Hux wasn’t supposed to sound so _human_.

“I, I mean, mission report. Later.”

“Yes. As per usual the meeting will take place five hours after end of battle to provide time for clean-up and-”

“No, just, private. Debriefing. You and me.” Fuck how did sentences even work again?

“Is that so?” Hux asked, his usually flat mouth sliding into something crooked and definitely charming.

“Yes. That’s so. My quarters. Thirty minutes.” Kylo leaned forward to press the release switch to the tie-fighter, and the back hatch opened with a pneumatic hiss. He stepped away only to reconsider and take the dive.

“And wear the flight suit.” He stalked off, slamming his helmet back in place before Hux, or anyone, could see the red he could feel heating his cheeks.

“Of course, Ren.” Hux purred at his retreating back. “See you soon.”

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to deliver on some sexy times, but I just couldn't find the inspiration. Like, I had a vague idea on how their "debriefing" went, but making that idea into an actual story with like words and shit? My brain just peaced out. Sorry.


End file.
